All That Remains
by dnachemlia
Summary: Scott never expected to lose his best friend in such an ordinary way, but when are things ever ordinary in Beacon Hills? AU after the first couple of episodes of 3B.
1. Chapter 1

**All That Remains**

Genre: Gen. Friendship/Supernatural/AU

Starts after the first couple of episodes of 3B, AU from there.

Pairings: None.

Warnings: Character death.

Summary: Scott never expected to lose his best friend in such an ordinary way, but when are things ever ordinary in Beacon Hills?

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

First time writing in this fandom. Would love to know what you think.

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

"_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"_

The priest's words were still ringing in Scott McCall's ears as the first fat drops of rain spattered against the coffin being lowered slowly into the earth. The rest of the gathered mourners had headed for their cars after the first grumble of thunder had rolled through, but Scott stayed, hands jammed into the pockets of his only black suit, staring at the simple casket that held the body of his best friend.

It seemed unbelievable that only a few days ago Stiles had been planning their annual Halloween pranks, laughing as he described how this year would be the best yet.

That prank had never been pulled.

Scott winced as he though back to that fateful afternoon. He had wanted to try and get to know the new girl, Kira, and decided to stay a bit longer after school, hoping to catch her alone. Scott had told Stiles he would meet him later, and Stiles, after making one of his usual sarcastic comments, had driven off in the direction of his house. He never made it to his destination.

Scott would never forget the sound of Lydia's scream that had echoed through the halls of the high school, bringing those few still within earshot (and one from even further away) running. He had found her outside the coach's office, sobbing, with Aiden trying unsuccessfully to comfort her.

"_Who?"_ he had asked, and one look into her eyes sent a chill down his spine. She managed to gasp out _'I'm sorry'_ before Scott had run for the exit, nearly colliding with Derek on the way out.

"_Who is it?"_

Scott had just pushed past Derek, jumped on his bike and gunned it. A few miles down the road he found two sets of skid marks, one set of which veered off the edge of the road and down into a deep ravine. The coppery stench of blood told him it was bad, but he hadn't been prepared for what he had found at the bottom. Derek had arrived just as he was desperately trying to pull Stiles' body from the wreckage and had dragged Scott away, telling him in an oddly choked voice that it was too late, that Stiles' heart was no longer beating.

"Scott?"

He turned to find his mother standing next to him, an umbrella poised over them both.

"Yeah, Mom?"

She cupped a gentle hand to his cheek. "It's time to go. You're getting soaked."

Scott turned away and looked back down at the coffin, now resting at the bottom of the grave. "I can't believe he's…This should never have happened. If I had just gone with him…"

She turned his head and forced him to look into her eyes. "This was not your fault, Scott. The only one who deserves blame is the drunk that caused the accident. There was nothing you could have done."

"But if I had been there, I could have done something. I could have…I could have saved him."

Melissa sighed. "Scott, you know what the doctors said. Stiles was…he died instantly on impact. Even if you had been in that jeep with him…there was nothing you could have done…and I might have lost you, too."

"I'm sorry."

She drew him into a hug, holding him tightly as he let out his grief.

"It's OK, honey. It's going to be OK."

"I miss him, Mom," Scott mumbled against her shoulder.

"I know…I know you do. We all do. Stiles was…he was one of a kind."

Finally he released her and she reached up to wipe away a stray tear. "You ready to go?"

He took one final look at Stiles' grave and nodded. Melissa put an arm around his shoulder and they headed for the car. Isaac and Derek were waiting at the edge of the parking lot for them, along with Allison and Lydia. Allison's face was tear-stained, while Lydia looked paler than Scott had ever seen her.

"You OK?" Isaac asked, and Scott gave a brief nod before turning to the girls.

"Are you going to be alright?" He directed the question to Lydia, but his gaze lingered on Allison for a few moments as he waited for her answer.

"I don't know," Lydia replied. "I…" Her lower lip started to tremble. "What's the point of…being able to do what I can do, if I can't…If I can't _help_? If I can't stop it from happening?"

"There has to be some point to it," Allison tried to reassure her, but Lydia just bit her lip and turned away, her shoulders shaking as she hurried towards her car. Allison quickly followed, glancing back at Scott before she caught up with Lydia and put an arm around her shoulder.

"You should probably go with them," Scott told Isaac, who looked rather surprised at the command.

"You don't want to…?"

"I kind of want to be alone right now."

"Understood. I'm…I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

Isaac dashed off after the girls and Derek cleared his throat, drawing Scott's attention.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Scott. Stiles was…he was a good friend."

"Yeah, he was. The best."

Derek looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he turned and headed for his own car. Scott and Melissa started off in the opposite direction but Scott stopped when he caught sight of Stiles' dad. The sheriff was sitting in his car, unmoving.

"Sheriff?" Scott asked as he approached. "Are you OK?"

The sheriff let out a humorless chuckle. "No. No, I'm not."

"Do you need someone to stay with you for awhile?" Melissa asked, and he shook his head.

"I don't think so. I wouldn't be very good company."

Melissa reached through the open window of his car and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am _so_ sorry for your loss."

The sheriff gave her a weak smile. "Thank you." He turned to Scott. "Thank you for being his friend."

Scott's voice caught in his throat and he barely managed to nod in reply.

"If you need anything…" Melissa began and he shook his head again.

"I don't think anyone can give me what I need right now, but thank you." He opened the door and stepped out. "Excuse me." He started walking back towards the gravesite.

Scott turned to his mother. "Should we…?"

"No. Not right now. Come on, let's go home."

The ride back to their house was silent. Once inside, Scott went up to his room to change and then flopped down on his bed, trying to keep the memories of the past few days at bay. He pulled out his phone, tempted to listen to Stiles' last message, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He glanced over as his computer, almost expecting a chat request from Stiles to pop up, but the computer remained silent. He rolled over and closed his eyes.

Soon the memories washed over him, unbidden: the first time he and Stiles had met…their first outing together…their many attempts to dodge the wrath of elementary and middle school bullies…the pranks they had played on each other and their unsuspecting classmates, and eventually teachers…practicing lacrosse and hoping to make first line…and the insanity that had overtaken their lives after the fateful night when Scott had been bitten, and everything that had happened since.

The ache in Scott's chest that had been present ever since he's heard Lydia's banshee cry became almost unbearable. He couldn't imagine how life would be now without his friend to be there for him, to keep him (mostly) out of trouble, and to be the voice of reason in his often crazy existence. Stiles had been his brother in everything but blood, and now Scott felt like a part of himself had been ripped away.

A soft knock on his bedroom door pulled him from his dark thoughts and he opened his eyes to see his mother open the door enough to poke her head in.

"Dinner's ready."

"Not hungry.'

Melissa opened the door all the way and stepped into his room then walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. She watched him for a few moments with a sad, sympathetic expression on her face, waiting for him to speak.

"I always had this idea that he'd always be there, you know?" He began. "I took him for granted. He stuck by me, through…everything. I don't know what I'm going to do without him, Mom."

"You'll survive, and succeed, and honor him…every day. Just by doing what you know is right. I think that's what he would have wanted for you."

"Maybe…"

She patted his knee. "No, not maybe. He would. Now come on. You need to eat something."

"In a while, OK?"

"Alright."

She left, quietly closing the door behind her, and he heard her go back downstairs. Scott settled back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and going over his mother's words in his head. He _would_ honor his friend. He owed Stiles that much.

The doorbell rang and he sat up, checked the clock and wondered who would be dropping by this time of night. He heard his mother open the front door and suddenly the relative quiet of the house was shattered by a blood-curdling scream.

Scott was out the door in a flash, his feet barely touching the floor as he dashed down the stairs. He saw his mother lying in a motionless heap in front of the open door and a wet, mud-covered figure crouching next to her, its hand on her neck.

"Get away from her!"

The figure spun around, sputtering.

"I-I don't know what happened! I just…she just screamed and then she was on the ground! I'm sorry!"

Scott stared in shock at the impossibly familiar face in front of him.

"_Stiles?"_

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

All That Remains

Chapter 2

"Stiles?"

Scott felt as if the floor beneath had opened up and he was hanging in space, ready for the threads of reality to pull him back or to break, sending him into the abyss. He barely managed to voice the next thought that ran through his mind.

"What…what are you…doing here?"

Stiles, or the apparition that looked like Stiles, ran his hand through his soaking mop of hair. "I have no idea, man, but I think I was sleepwalking, or something. I woke up in the _freakin' _cemetery and…your house was closer, and... I didn't want my dad to worry…"

Finally Scott's paralysis broke and he reached out and grabbed Stiles' arm, his heart skipping a few beats when he felt the solid flesh beneath his fingers. Stiles was not very warm, but Scott could feel, he could _hear_, the beat of his heart, something he had thought he'd never hear again.

Puzzlement, then worry crossed Stiles' face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Before Scott could answer, a soft moan drew his attention to the crumpled form on the floor. He released Stiles and quickly crouched down next to his mother.

"Mom?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him, confusion quickly giving way to fear as she sat up and stared at Stiles.

"I'm sorry, Melissa. I didn't mean to scare you."

"What…?"

"It's OK, Mom. Stiles thinks he might have been sleepwalking. He says he woke up in the cemetery," Scott rushed to add, hoping his mother would catch on quickly. After a few moments of shocked silence she turned to meet his gaze and nodded. He helped her to her feet and she immediately reached out and touched Stiles' face, her eyes widening in wonder before 'concerned Mom' took over.

"You're freezing…and filthy."

"Yeah, sorry about the mess. It was raining when I woke up but stopped pretty soon after I started walking." He looked down at his bare feet. "Maybe I should start sleeping with my shoes on."

She let out a weak laugh and patted his face. "Maybe. Right now I think you need a hot shower and a change of clothes. I'm sure Scott can find something that will fit you."

Scott nodded and a relieved look crossed Stiles' face, followed by a sarcastic smirk. "Dude, I'm _not_ wearing your underwear."

Scott barely managed a smile of his own. "I think I got it covered. Come on." He waved towards the stairs and Stiles started to head up. Scott turned and glanced at his mother, sending another silent request.

"I'll call Deaton," she whispered, once Stiles was out of earshot. "Anyone else?"

"Not yet. Thanks."

"And to think I used to worry about…normal teenager stuff," she commented with a soft chuckle as she headed for the kitchen. Scott hurried to catch up with Stiles and followed him to his own room. He quickly found a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt for Stiles, as well as an unopened pack of briefs his mother had bought him months ago and he had ignored. Stiles gave him a thankful nod and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Scott sat down on his bed and took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly as he tried to calm the racing of his heart. It seemed like a thousand questions were galloping through his mind, but he didn't have a clue how to answer any of them. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't bear to lose his friend again.

Finally Stiles emerged from the bathroom, his still damp hair sticking up in all directions, giving him a decidedly comical look.

"Man, I even had dirt in my _ears_. What do you think I was doing? Mudwrestling?" He sounded almost hopeful.

"No idea," Scott replied. "How do you feel?"

"Better. A lot better, actually, like…all the weirdness we've been dealing with for the past few weeks? It's just gone."

"That's…good to hear."

"Guess it's time to call my dad, huh? He's not going to be happy that I've started sleepwalking again."

"You did before?"

"Yeah, after my mom died. I outgrew it…or so I thought."

"We'll figure it out. Come on." They went downstairs to the kitchen where Melissa was waiting.

"Feel better?"

"Much. Thanks."

"Are you hungry?"

Stiles grinned. "Starving."

"Well we can fix that." She dished out some of the spaghetti she had re-heated in the microwave and set it in front of Stiles, who started to wolf it down.

"Hey, slow down, don't make yourself sick," she automatically began and then froze, glancing at Scott, the uncertainty clear in her expression.

Stiles didn't seem to notice the exchange but did stop eating for a moment. "Sorry. Feels like I haven't eaten in a week."

"No, it's OK." Melissa poured him a glass of water which he quickly drained before he resumed eating. Scott was so focused on watching his friend that he didn't register the front door opening, and a startled gasp was the first indication he had that someone else had entered the kitchen. He turned to find Isaac staring at Stiles in horror a split second before the beta's eyes turned yellow and he lunged at Stiles, teeth bared.

Scott caught Isaac before he could reach Stiles and threw him across the room, subduing the other werewolf with a roar. Scott heard Stiles whisper "holy crap" just before he crossed the room, grabbed Isaac, and dragged him out of the kitchen and across the living room to the front door.

"What in the hell?" Isaac yelped and Scott made motions for him to keep his voice down. "He's supposed to be—" 

"Yeah, and now he's not." Scott gave Isaac a shove. "And what the hell was that? Why were you trying to attack him?"

Isaac snorted. "Seriously? He came back from the _dead_. Last one I know who did that was Peter Hale, and we _still_ don't know if we can trust him."

"Stiles isn't Peter."

"Look, I know he was your friend, but—"

"He still _is_ my friend. That's not going to change."

"But—"

"Deaton's on his way over. He'll figure it out. But until then we're not telling Stiles."

"He doesn't know?"

"He thinks he was sleepwalking and woke up in the cemetery."

"Holy crap…"

"Yeah."

"Have you told his father?"

"Not yet."

Isaac's eye widened. "So you're _not_ sure he's really OK."

"I'm sure. I just didn't know how to tell the Sheriff."

"Probably should let Deaton handle that, too."

"Yeah, probably. Come on." Isaac followed Scott back to the kitchen where Stiles was sitting silently, his dinner forgotten.

"You want to tell me what in the hell is going on?"

"Nothing. Just a misunderstanding." Scott turned to glare at Isaac, who nodded.

"A _misunderstanding_? Isaac wolfs-out on me, and you all have been looking at me weird, like…I don't know, but when I first got here you," he nodded at Melissa, "and your mom looked like you were seeing a ghost."

"Close," muttered Isaac and Scott elbowed his ribs, causing him to wince.

"Dude, seriously, what has you all so freaked out?" They all turned their gazes away and Stiles smacked his hand on the table. "Please, just tell me!"

"You died." Isaac ignored the twin glares the McCalls gave him. "Four days ago."

Stiles just stared at him for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, right." He glanced at Melissa and his smile faded when he took in her expression. "He's kidding, right?" He turned to Scott. "Right?"

"Stiles, I…I'm sorry, man…"

"But…how?"

"Car accident. A drunk driver ran you off the road."

"_Isaac!"_

"He asked."

"S-seriously?" Stiles stammered. "You mean…all the weird, supernatural, _dangerous _crap we've being dealing with…and I get taken out by a freaking _drunk driver_?"

Scott nodded. Stiles glanced at the others for conformation before returning his attention to Scott.

"Are you sure? I mean, maybe it was someone who just really looked like me, and—"

"It was you, and I know because I found you…after it happened."

A look of horror crossed Stiles' face. "Oh, man…"

"Yeah. It was pretty bad."

"Closed casket," Isaac added, earning him another glare from Scott. Before Stiles could respond the doorbell rang. "I'll get that," Isaac offered and disappeared into the living room.

Stiles slowly raised his hands and looked at them, turning them and counting softly under his breath.

"…ten…I'm not dreaming…I was really dead?" Scott nodded again. "But now I'm not… How…?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Deaton replied as he walked into the kitchen, his black bag in one hand. He set the bag on the table and studied Stiles with a mildly quizzical expression. "What's the last thing you remember before waking up in the cemetery?"

"Uh…I remember leaving school…Scott said he'd catch up with me later, and we…we had plans for later. I remember heading home…and that's it. Everything else is a blank."

"You don't remember the accident?" Scott asked, and Stiles shook his head.

"That's probably a good thing, right?"

Deaton opened his bag and pulled out a bottle of black power. "Hold out your hand." Stiles complied and Deaton poured some of the powder onto Stiles' palm. Nothing happened.

"Hmm…"

"Is that mountain ash?" Stiles asked in a shaky voice.

Deaton nodded, then held the bottle out, indicating that Stiles should pour the ash on his hand back into the bottle. He pulled out another bottle containing an off-white powder. He poured some of it onto Stiles palm, and again nothing happened. Stiles poured it back into the jar.

"What was that?"

"Mistletoe."

Deaton repeated the process several more times, each with a different powdered substance. The last bottle contained a clear liquid, which also had no effect. Finally he pulled out a long-bladed knife, the sight of which caused Stiles to pull back, wide-eyed.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to cut you, I promise. Hold out your hand."

Reluctantly, Stiles did, and scrunched up his face in anticipation of pain, but all Deaton did was lay the blade against his palm. Nothing happened.

"Interesting."

"So what am I?" Stiles asked, fear plain in his expression.

"Human," Deaton replied. "I can't find any evidence of supernatural interference."

"So he's not a zombie?" Isaac asked, and Stiles sent him an annoyed glare.

"Don't worry, I have no desire to eat your brain. Of course, you'd have to actually _have_ one."

Isaac shot Stiles a dirty look and Deaton chuckled. "No, he's not a zombie. From what I can tell he's completely normal. I just don't know how he came back as he is. Or why."

"Great," Stiles muttered. "I've stumped Yoda."

"So you've never seen anything like this before?" Melissa asked.

"No. Usually when someone rises from the dead, they've been brought back through dark magic—"

"Wait, like necromancy?" Stiles asked, his eyes wide.

"Something like that, although necromancers will bring a dead soul back for a specific purpose, usually to gain information or tell the future."

"But I don't know anything important…or anything about the future…at least not that I know of."

"I don't think necromancy is what occurred here, since that leaves a mark. Some sort of magic has to be involved, but as for the true purpose…I'm sorry to say we might have to wait and see."

"But, why me? I'm…nobody."

"That's not true," Scott interjected. "You're important to a lot of people." He put his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "You're important to me."

Stiles sent Scott a grateful look. "Thanks, man."

"Does this have something to do with the, uh, door we opened? When we temporarily died before?"

"Possible. I'm going to have to do some research. In the mean time, it might be a good idea to lay low."

"What about my dad? He must be…pretty messed up after what happened to me."

"Right now he's out at the cemetery. I stopped by before I came here, and someone had discovered that your grave had been disturbed. They called the police."

"My…wait, are you saying I dug myself out of my own _grave_?"

"I don't think so. Your hands certainly don't look like you did. Something else had to have brought you out."

"Oh, good, because that's just a little _too_ creepy," Stiles remarked with his usual sarcasm, but Scott could see that underneath the snarky façade, his friend was truly terrified.

Deaton glanced at Scott and nodded slightly, showing that he, too had noticed Stiles' distress. "I'll go talk to your father, and bring him here."

"Thanks."

The vet smiled and left, while the remaining group sat in uncomfortable silence. Finally Isaac spoke.

"Should we tell the girls? Or do you think Lydia might already know?"

"I guess you better call and check. If she doesn't…well, she could probably help us in figuring this out. Allison, too."

"Yeah, probably." Isaac excused himself to go make the call and Melissa put her hand on Stiles' other shoulder.

"Are you OK? Do you need anything?"

"Just to wake up, and find out that this whole thing was some bizarre nightmare."

She gave him a hug and then gently patted his face. "I think we all feel like that at this point." She glanced at Scott and dipped her head to acknowledge the silent request for privacy before leaving as well. Scott sat down next to Stiles and waited for his friend to tell him what was really bothering him.

"Am I going to have to go back?"

"Back where?"

"To being dead. After whatever it is that I was brought back for is finished. Will I die again?"

"No. That's not going to happen. I won't let anything happen to you this time. I promise."

"'This time'?"

"When you…when the accident happened, I should have been there. You wanted me to go with you to your house, and I…"

"Wanted to talk to Kira. I remember."

"I'm sorry."

Stiles let out a weak laugh. "I'm pretty sure what happened to me wasn't your fault… Speaking of which, did they catch the guy that…killed me?"

"He, uh, ran into a tree…about a mile down the road from where we found you. He died before they could get to him."

"Oh. Who was it?"

"Nobody we know. Just some guy who lost his job, decided to get drunk, and then…"

"Yeah. Bad luck, huh?"

"Something like that."

"So…was my funeral nice?"

"Stiles…"

"What? I think I deserve to know that." A shadow of a familiar grin crossed Stiles' face and Scott laughed weakly.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was. Lots of people there…the whole lacrosse team, even the Coach. All our friends…" Scott sighed. "And it was the worst day of my life."

"I'm sorry, man."

Scott didn't respond for a few moments, but finally he was able to speak.

"Do you remember when we were stuck in that haunted hotel? Where I almost set myself on fire?"

"Kind of hard to forget."

"You talked me out of it, said I'd have to take you with me. Saved my ass." Stiles nodded. "You also said that I'm your brother. You know I feel the same way, right? You're _my_ brother, too. In every way that counts."

"Thanks, bro." Stiles patted his back, and Scott pulled him in for a hug.

"I don't ever want to feel like that again."

"Me either."

Scott heard his mother walk in the kitchen and he released Stiles before turning to her. She was holding Stiles' muddy clothing in one hand.

"Oh, sorry, I was going to find something to put those in, but…"

"It's OK. I can deal with a little mud. I brought them down because I thought there might be…evidence of what happened on them."

"Good thinking, Mom." Scott jumped up to retrieve a bag, while Stiles continued to stare at the mud-encrusted material.

"Even if there isn't anything on them, I really don't think I'd want to wear those again. Especially since I…you know, was buried in them."

"Completely understandable."

Melissa started to put the clothes in the bag Scott gave her and paused when Isaac returned.

"Long call," Stiles remarked, and Isaac shrugged.

"_Weird_ call. Lydia's still asleep, but Allison said she didn't mention Stiles' Lazarus act. Allison thinks she should wait until Lydia wakes up to tell her about it, but in the meantime she'll see what she can find."

"I guess we should try, too."

"Tomorrow. You should get some rest."

Stiles let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Apparently I've been _resting_ for a few days. I don't think I could sleep right now if I tried." He glanced at Scott. "Sorry."

"It's OK. We're all a little wired right now."

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door, and they all jumped. Isaac recovered first and gave Melissa a sheepish grin before he went to answer the door. A few moments later they heard the door open, followed by Isaac's startled voice.

"_Derek? What are you doing here?"_

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**All That Remains**

Chapter 3

"_Derek, what are you doing here?"_

Scott jumped up and quickly left the kitchen, motioning for Stiles to stay put. When he stepped into the living room he saw Derek at the front door, a worried expression on his face. When he saw Scott, he pushed past Isaac and stepped into the foyer.

"Scott, we have a problem." His gaze swept the room, obviously searching for something. Suddenly he froze, staring over Scott's shoulder. Scott turned to see his mother and Stiles peering around the corner, the tension in the faces indicating that the were ready to bolt if necessary. Scott turned back to Derek in time to see a replay of Issac's initial reaction and moved to grab the former alpha as he charged.

"Derek, _stop!_" Scott was barely able to halt Derek's attack, shoving him as hard as he could through the open door. Derek quickly recovered, his eyes wide with fury.

"Scott, that-"

"Is really Stiles, I swear. Deaton already checked him out. He's alive. He's _human_."

Derek froze, his gaze on Stiles. He took a deep breath, testing the air, and finally exhaled, his glowing blue eyes returning to their normal hazel hue as he stepped back into the house.

"How?"

"Maybe we should ask your uncle," Isaac remarked as he closed the door and moved as far from the other two werewolves as possible. Derek turned to him, skepticism clear in his expression.

"Peter? How would he…?" He glanced at Stiles again, who had finally moved all the way into the living room to stand behind Scott. "Why, if it was even possible, would he bring Stiles back from the dead? He doesn't even like him."

"Feeling's mutual," muttered Stiles, finally breaking his uncharacteristic silence as Melissa joined them. "And I have no idea why the Prince of Darkness in a V-neck would bring me back, either, but do you know anyone else with that kind of...experience?"

"No, I don't. What about Lydia?"

"She's asleep, but she didn't say anything about this to Allison," Isaac offered.

"OK." He studied Stiles for several moments. "What do you remember?"

"Nothing," he replied with a shrug. "I remember getting in my jeep to drive home, and then I woke up in the cemetery." A horrified look crossed his face. "Oh man, my _jeep_…"

"The cemetery? And you didn't see anything strange?"

"I was more worried about getting _out_ of there," Stiles snapped. "Because, you know, _creepy_. But no, not really… Wait. Deaton said my...uh, grave was messed up and someone called the cops. Did you…?"

"Report it? No, but I was driving by and saw what was going on. Managed to get a pretty good look before the police showed up. Too much rain and mud to get a good scent, though."

"Great. Now what?"

"I'll talk to Peter. I'm not saying I think he did this, but he might have an idea of what could." He turned and headed for the door, pausing a moment to turn back and stare a Stiles. "I...I'm glad you're back, Stiles. Your friends… They were unhappy about losing you."

"Aw, if I didn't know better I'd say you missed me, too."

Derek just rolled his eyes and left, shutting the door a little harder than necessary behind him.

"Now what?" Isaac asked, and Scott shook his head.

"No idea. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what Derek gets out of Peter."

"I'm guessing nothing, unless there's something in it for Peter himself," Stiles grumbled. "And we all know how _that_ will work out."

Melissa put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Stiles, with or without Peter Hale's help." He gave her a weak smile in return. "Come on, you dinner's getting cold."

"Kinda lost my appetite. Sorry."

Suddenly headlights swept the yard outside and a few moments later there was a loud, frantic knocking on the door. Isaac rolled his eyes and moved to answer it.

"I'm starting to feel like a doorman."

"You'd look like a dork in the suit," Stiles snarked, earning a dirty look from Isaac as he opened the door to reveal the Sheriff and Deaton. The Sheriff started to speak but stopped dead when he caught sight of Stiles, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"Hey, Dad," Stiles replied, and Scott could hear the tremor in his voice despite his attempt to contain it.

Stilinski's gaze shifted to Scott, fear and confusion plain in his expression.

"It's really him," Scott assured him and Stiles nodded, taking a few tentative steps towards his father. The Sheriff's paralysis vanished and in an instant he had crossed the room to pull Stiles into a hug, a soft sob escaping his throat as he wrapped his his arms around his son. Stiles returned the embrace with shaking arms and a sob of his own.

"Don't you _ever_ do that to me again!"

"Didn't mean to do it," Stiles replied, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry…"

Finally Stilinski released Stiles and stood back to study his face as he cupped a hand to his son's cheek. "_How?_"

"We don't know yet," Scott replied, barely managing to keep his own voice from cracking. "But we're going to figure it out." The Sheriff glanced at Deaton, who nodded.

"I have several ideas I'd like to explore."

"And he...he's OK?" Deaton nodded again and he returned his attention to Stiles, who also nodded. "OK. I guess we… Damn. How are we going to explain-" A loud knock on the door interrupted the Sheriff, causing Isaac to roll his eyes again.

"Who else are we expecting?" Melissa asked as she went to answer the door. She checked the peephole and groaned. "Great."

"Who is it?"

"Your father."

"_Stilinski!I know you're here. Melissa, open up!"_

Scott placed himself between the Stilinskis and the door before nodding to his mother. She opened the door and stuck her head out. "Now is not a good time, Rafe."

"I don't care. I need to talk to Stilinski, and he needs to talk to me, if he wants to keep his job."

She sighed and opened the door to let him in. He caught sight of the Sheriff first.

"What are you doing here? You were in the middle of investigating the desecration of your son's grave and you just…" His eyes widened almost comically as Stiles stepped out from behind his father. "What in the _hell?"_

Stilinski glanced at his son and sighed. "Something came up...obviously."

"How…?" Anger flashed in his eyes. "What was this, some sort of a _joke?_"

"I'm not laughing."

"So, what you got desperate enough to fake your son's death to get enough sympathy for-" Melissa walked up behind him, spun him around, and slapped his face, _hard._ The room fell silent.

"You…" It took several moments for McCall to recover. "You just assaulted a federal agent."

"I just smacked an _idiot_. Wake up, Rafe. Do you really think John could ever do something like that?" She glanced at the Sheriff before returning her angry gaze to her ex-husband. "You were at the funeral. You saw him. You saw all of us. We were _devastated._ You can't fake that, Rafe. You just can't."

"So none of you…" They all shook their heads as Melissa, Isaac and Deaton joined the rest of the group facing McCall. "Alright. Tell me what happened."

Scott gave him a carefully edited version of how Stiles had woken up in the cemetery and made his way to his friend's house. Scott had been on the phone with Deaton when Stiles arrived, and the vet had volunteered to find the Sheriff and bring him to see his son.

"So you don't remember anything before that?" Stiles shook his head. "You don't remember the accident?" He shook his head again. "Which brings us to the next question: who was in your car when it crashed, and why didn't your father know it wasn't you?"

"That's two questions," Stiles replied, his sarcastic grin fading when he caught McCall's expression. "Uh, well...you know how they say everyone has a twin? Maybe...it was just someone who really looked like me...you know grief plays tricks on your mind, and I've heard of a lot of cases where people have been misidentified by close relatives, so it _does_ happen, and-"

"It doesn't explain what this mysterious 'twin' was doing in your car. Or where you were for the last four days. Or why someone would vandalize your 'grave'."

"Psychological terrorism." They all turned to Isaac, who blushed slightly and shrugged before expanding his theory. "Maybe someone wanted to, uh, screw with the Sheriff's head so he couldn't do his job...and they could get away with stuff."

"He was doing fine with that on his own," McCall muttered, earning him a punch to the shoulder from his ex-wife. "OK, look, one time I'll excuse, but...Fine. Why would someone want to prevent him from doing his job?"

"You'd know that better than the rest of us," Scott replied. "Is there something going on in this town, something to do with crime that we don't know about?"

McCall looked thoughtful. "Maybe, but this is a little extreme. Stilinski really doesn't have enough power, sheriff or not, to stop the type of people that _would_ go to such extremes."

"Well then maybe he was practice. You know, they wanted to see if it would work at all before trying it on the...more powerful people," Isaac suggested.

"That...almost makes sense."

"Knew we kept you around for some reason," Stiles snarked and Isaac flipped him off.

"Hey, none of that."

Isaac ducked his head sheepishly. "Sorry, Melissa."

"There are still a lot of unanswered questions. 'How?' would be the biggest one." He thought for a minute. "Stiles' jeep is still in the impound yard, right?" The Sheriff nodded. "I want forensics to go over it. Maybe there'll be some hint of who's behind this."

"No problem. I'll put in the request. Anything else?"

"Well, obviously, we need to take Stiles to the hospital."

"What?" Stiles backed up so he was hidden behind his father again. "Why?"

"God knows what whoever it was did to you when they kidnapped you...If that's what we're thinking happened. You need to get checked out."

"He's right."

"But Dad, I-"

He turned to face his son. "It will be OK, Stiles. I won't leave you there alone. I promise. OK?" Finally Stiles nodded, and his gently squeezed his shoulder and smiled. "Come on."

"Is that what you were wearing when…?"

"No. I have his clothes. We were thinking they'd contain evidence, it's just…"

"It hadn't sunk in completely yet," Scott finished. Melissa nodded and went to retrieve the bag of muddy clothes from the kitchen.

"I'll call ahead to let them know we're coming." He thought for a moment and let out a wry chuckle. "Keeping a lid on this whole thing is going to be interesting."

"That's one way of putting it," the Sheriff muttered as McCall excused himself and left. Finally Stilinski turned to Deaton.

"Is Stiles...will he be safe at the hospital?"

"As far as I know. I can give you some of the usual wards to make sure he's protected. We'll try to keep it subtle so as not to raise too many questions with the hospital staff."

"I can help with that, too," Melissa offered as she returned from the kitchen. "Just give me a few minutes to get changed."

"Thanks, Melissa."

She smiled and patted Stiles' cheek. "Anything I can do to help. I'm just so glad to have you back." Stiles managed a weak smile of his own and nodded before she headed upstairs.

Deaton left and returned with the wards and explained how they worked. Stilinski listened, making a few notes, an odd expression on his face as the significance of what Deaton was telling him started to sink in. Finally Deaton finished the lesson and excused himself, promising to keep them informed if he found something.

A few minutes later just as Melissa returned, dressed in her work attire, McCall returned to tell them that there would be someone waiting for them at the hospital and that it was time to leave.

"I'm going with you," Scott declared as he watched his friend reluctantly walk through the front door towards the waiting car.

"No, Scott. Stiles...he'll be fine. He's going to feel a bit overwhelmed and...probably the fewer people around him right now, the better. Give him a little bit of space. He'll understand."

"But I should do something. I should be there for him." The _this time_ remained unspoken.

"You will." She kissed his cheek. "But tonight you both need the rest. First thing tomorrow, I promise. OK?"

"OK."

Finally the two werewolves were alone. Scott flopped on the sofa, going over the evening's events in his head and debating what to do next. Isaac watched him for several minutes before breaking his silence.

"So...bedtime?"

"No." Scott looked up and met Isaac's eyes. "I think we need to go check out that grave."

XXX

Stiles sat up with a gasp, heart pounding in his chest, and took in his surroundings as he tried to bring his breathing under control. It took a moment for him to realize that he was not in his own bed as he had hoped, waking up to find the whole thing was some sort of bizarre dream.

The small hospital room was empty except for his father, fast asleep in the chair next to Stiles' bed. Stiles winced when he saw the position his father was in and was tempted to wake him. Finally he decided the krick his father woul'd have in his neck tomorrow from sleeping was less of a concern than getting enough sleep at all, something he had clearly been lacking over the past few days.

Stiles pulled back the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet hitting the cool floor with a soft thump. He stood carefully, making sure his legs would support him before he carefully moved to his father's side and gently adjusted his head and neck to a more comfortable position. After making sure that his father had slept through the manipulation, he padded to the bathroom and gently shut the door behind him.

After dealing with his most pressing need, Stiles washed his hands and then splashed cold water on his face as he tried to clear the fuzziness from his mind. He raised his head and looked in the mirror, wondering if he would see something that would explain all of this, some insight into why _he_ of all people had returned from the dead.

He met his own gaze in the mirror, studying every feature of his appearance and finding nothing amiss. If anyone other than Scott had told him what had happened, he wouldn't have believed him. He knew Scott was telling the truth, as much as he knew of it, but he feared both of them were only scratching the surface.

Stiles had spent several hours at the hands of a variety of doctors and nurses who had given him a very thorough-and humiliating-examination. They had pronounced him healthy and unharmed, although they were waiting on the results of the blood work to confirm that assessment. After Melissa had helped to get him settled in his room, McCall had stopped by to tell the Sheriff that he had obtained the autopsy report, but since they hadn't yet recovered the body that had been in Stiles' grave, it wasn't going to be much help.

Stiles' natural, albeit morbid curiosity had taken over and he had asked to see the report, earning him a strange look from the FBI agent, but his father had immediately forbidden him to see it. Stiles figured he'd be able to get a hold of it, eventually, but the expression on his father's face told him he should not push for that any time in the near future. Finally McCall had left, promising to be in touch, and his father had encouraged Stiles to try and get some sleep.

A couple of hours later, the strange, disjointed images of his hollow eyed, grey faced 'twin' yelling at him in an incomprehensible language pulled him from sleep. He suspected Isaac's theory had prompted that particular nightmare, but now he couldn't shake the feeling that _something_ was going on and that memory had more meaning that he originally believed.

Stiles sighed and splashed more water on his face. He knew he'd be getting no more sleep that night. Might as well be awake enough to think this whole thing through and decide where to start to figure it out.

He was reaching for the door when he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turned back to the mirror and froze as he caught a glimpse of a figure in the mirror, standing behind him. His eyes widened as the figure vanished, but not before he recognized the face, one he hadn't seen in years, but knew immediately who it was.

"Mom?"

TBC...

* * *

><p>AN: I was hoping we'd find out what the Sheriff's first name really is, but so far we haven't. The fandom seems to have accepted "John" as his name, so I've used that here.


	4. Chapter 4

All That Remains

Chapter 4

"Mom?"

Stiles stared at the mirror, wondering if the image he had seen was his imagination gone rampant or a sign of impending insanity. He looked around the room, not really even sure of what he expected to find, but he was alone.

"Stiles? You OK?"

His father's voice brought him back to his senses and he took a deep breath before giving a shaky reply.

"Yeah Dad, I'm fine. Be right out." He took one final look around before opening the door and finding his father waiting outside. The look of worry on the Sheriff's face made Stiles' chest ache. He managed a smile and his father gave him one in return.

"You sure you're OK?"

"Yeah. I, uh...nightmare woke me up. Sorry."

"I guess I can understand that, considering…"

"Yeah. Are _you_ OK?"

"Better than I was. Come on, you need to get back to bed." He gently took Stiles' arm and led him back to the hospital bed, pulling the blankets back up over Stiles after he laid down.

"Thanks." He studied his father's face. "I'm really sorry about all this."

"Hey, this was not your fault." He chuckled. "I'm just really glad to have you back… no matter what."

The Sheriff settled back into his chair and Stiles rolled over on his side to face him.

"Can you tell me what happened? I mean, Scott told me a little, but…"

"You sure you want to know?"

"Only if you want to tell me."

"Not really, but… OK." He let out a soft snort of humorless laughter. "I was doing paperwork, routine stuff. I didn't take the call when it came in, but as soon as the deputy who did came to my door… I knew it was bad. He told me my son had been in an accident, and I asked which hospital. I couldn't… I didn't want to believe what had actually happened, and then… Parrish drove me out to the site of the accident. Saw Scott… saw Derek, the looks on their faces… and then I knew the worst had happened."

Stiles reached out and put his hand on his father's arm, receiving a shaky smile in return.

"Scott was a mess. He had tried to save you… The doctor told me later it wouldn't have helped. I tried to tell Scott that but… I imagined how you would have reacted if something like that had happened to him… I remember how I felt when your mother… Anyway, it was bad."

"And you were sure it was me?"

"Yeah. Never been more certain of anything… until Deaton showed up last night." He met Stiles' gaze. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure, Dad, anything."

"Outlive me." Stiles started to protest but his father held up his hand to silence him. "No one should have to bury their child. And believe me, once was enough, OK? So just… don't make me go through that again."

"I'll try not to… and I don't want to have to bury you, either. I thought I lost you once, too, and…"

"It's not fun."

"No. It's not."

They sat in contemplative silence for several minutes before the Sheriff spoke again.

"What do _you_ remember?"

"Nothing. Between leaving school and waking up in the cemetery, it's a complete blank."

"And your nightmare?"

"Nothing that makes any sense." His father raised an eyebrow and he sighed. "Just… Someone who looks sort of like me, but not exactly, yelling at me. I can't understand what he's saying."

"Huh."

"Yeah…"

"But nothing else?"

"No." He sighed in frustration. "I guess, on one level at least, that's a good thing."

"True. Other than that, how are you feeling?"

"Fine. Better than I've been for awhile, actually. When can I get out of here?"

"That's up to the doctors." A rueful smile crossed his face. "And probably McCall. Pretty sure he hasn't bought Isaac's theory, at least not completely, and I'm not about to tell him the truth."

"Especially since we don't even know what that is, yet. At least we have people working on figuring that out, and as soon as I get out of here I can help. I really need to know what happened."

"I think we all do." He paused. "What do you mean, 'better than I've been for awhile'? I know you were having nightmares before all of this."

"Yeah, I was, but… Remember what happened with… when you and Melissa and Mr. Argent were kidnapped?"

"Kinda hard to forget."

"And did Deaton tell you what we had to do to find you?"

"No. Well, he mentioned it was some sort of ritual, and left it at that. Why?"

Stiles sighed. "We, uh, that is, Scott, Allison, and I, we had to, uh… make a short trip to the other side to break through the spell hiding you."

"'Other side'? You _died _to save me?"

"Temporarily..."

"God… And _Deaton_ suggested this?"

"It was the only way, Dad. It was safe. Well, as safe as dying can be, I guess. But because of what we did, apparently we opened some sort of door into our minds. That's what was causing my nightmares… and hallucinations."

"What hallucinations? You never told me-"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"I'm your father. It's my _job_ to worry."

"You had a lot on your mind." Stiles saw the anger in his father's eyes and flinched. "But the good news is, that's all gone now. I feel… like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

"So you had to die _again_ to shut that door?"

"Maybe."

John sighed. "I wish you'd found another way to do it, that's all."

"It wasn't intentional, Dad, I swear."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Just bad luck. Do me another favor? _Tell _me when something like this is going on. I can have a lot on my mind, but there's still room for you, OK?"

"OK."

He reached out and rested his hand on Stiles' head. "When you get out of here, we're going to have a long talk about all this… supernatural stuff."

"We kinda already did that."

"Yeah, but now I'm willing to listen. And no chess board this time, OK?"

"OK."

"Now I think it's time for you to get some more sleep."

"Don't know if that will happen… but I'll try." His father ruffled his hair and smiled, prompting Stiles to give him one in return.

"G'night, Dad."

"G'night."

Stiles closed his eyes, trying to relax his mind enough to actually sleep, and eventually he drifted off.

And dreamed of his mother.

XXX

Scott and Isaac watched the activity in the cemetery from their hiding spot at the edge of the surrounding forest. There were far too many people around for them to try and get closer, so they waited in silence. They could see that a group of technicians were removing dirt from the newly disturbed plot, and eventually someone brought some sort of heavy machinery that was used to lift the coffin out of the grave.

"Holy crap…"

The brief glimpse they had of the coffin was enough to see that the lid had been shattered, as if something had attached a bomb to it. The coffin was quickly covered and loaded onto a truck along with the rest of the evidence the crew had collected. Finally most of the cops had left, leaving only the new deputy to guard the site.

"I don't think there's going to be much for us to see, even if we do manage to get past the cop," Isaac whispered. "What are you expecting to find?"

"I don't know. Something."

"Derek couldn't find anything."

"Yeah, I know. I just feel like I should check. Stiles is my friend."

Isaac shrugged. "Yeah, I know, but since we can't actually go over there and investigate…"

"We could if we had a distraction." Scott turned and raised an eyebrow at Isaac who groaned.

"Why me?"

"You know this place better than I do. You'd be able to hide better."

"Fine." He glanced around, looking for the clearest path to safety before rising to his feet and dashing across the expanse of lawn that took him past the gravesite.

"_Hey! Stop!"_ The deputy took off in pursuit and Scott waited until they were out of sight before he crept over to the spot where his friend had been buried. The area was pretty well trampled and the grave itself was now just a rough, dark hole in the ground. Scott inhaled, hoping to catch a scent of whatever had caused the initial damage, but his senses were overwhelmed by the residues of all of the other people who had been there that night. He shook his head to clear it and tried again, concentrating on finding a scent that wasn't human. Nothing.

Scott started to widen his search if the site, pausing when a glint of something metal caught his eye. He crouched down and picked up the object, dropping it with a his when it burned his skin. He searched his pockets and found a scrap of paper, which he used to protect his hand as he picked the object up again. It was some sort of pendant, a thin circle surrounding what looked like an old, gnarled tree with branches extending into the circle at the top and twisted roots reaching towards the bottom. It sparked a memory, but before he could examine it more closely her heard the sound of running footsteps and turned to see Isaac rushing towards him.

"Go!"

Scott turned and ran into the forest, Isaac on his heels. They didn't stop for breath until they were almost to Scott's house.

"We lost him?"

"Yeah. He's pretty fast... For a human."

Scott snorted softly. "Or maybe you're just getting slow."

Isaac shot him a dirty look. "Find anything?"

Scott held up the pendant, still wrapped in the piece of paper. "It's silver." He carefully unfolded the paper so Isaac could see it.

"Kinda looks like those pictures of the Nemeton Lydia kept drawing… but with the top intact."

"Yeah, it does."

"You don't think we're dealing with another Darach, do you?"

"No idea. I guess we'll have to ask Deaton."

"In the morning, right?"

"Yeah. In the morning. Come on, lets go get some sleep."

XXX

A beam of sunlight dancing across her face pulled Allison from her slumber. She groaned, blinked a few times and sat up, immediately checking her surroundings. She was alone in her room but she could hear the sound of the shower running in the adjacent bathroom. Surprised that Lydia had gotten up first, and even more surprised that Lydia hadn't woken her in the process, Allison got to her feet and stumbled towards the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. The impeding conversation was not one she wanted to have without a boost of caffeine in her system.

The coffee was ready by the time Lydia entered the kitchen, her long damp hair hanging straight around her pale face. She was wrapped in one of Allison's old robes, looking small and strangely vulnerable.

"Hey. How'd you sleep?" Lydia just shrugged. "You feeling OK?"

"No impending desire to scream, if that's what you mean," Lydia replied, her tone flat. "You?"

Allison winced. This wasn't going to be easy. "I'm OK." She reached up into the cabinet and pulled out a couple of mugs and the sugar bowl. "I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

She poured them each a cup of coffee and added a spoonful of sugar to her own before passing a cup and the bowl to Lydia. "You know when...what you can sense is going to happen, happens?" Lydia stiffened a little and nodded. "Do you ever get a sense...if that's changed?"

"What do you mean?" Lyida asked, ignoring the coffee, her gaze fixed on Allison.

"Like...if someone was going to die, and that...maybe didn't happen."

"Hasn't happened so far. Why?"

"I think maybe you better sit down."

Lydia's eyes widened as she sank into one of the chairs. "What happened?"

"I talked to Isaac last night, after you were asleep. He said... He said Stiles came back. He's alive. He showed up at Scott's house last. Deaton checked him out, and he couldn't find anything wrong with him. It's really him." Lydia just stared at Allison, unmoving. "Lydia? Are you OK?"

"Where is he?" She whispered.

"I… I don't actually know. I can check, just give me a minute." She dashed to her room to grab her phone and returned to find Lydia in the same position, staring off into space. Allison quickly hit a number on speed dial and waited. "Isaac? Yeah, I know it's early. Is Stiles there? Oh… OK. Uh, huh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. OK. We'll be over later." She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, a lot later. Go back to sleep." She ended the call and met Lydia's gaze. "Agent McCall showed up last night and they made up some story about Stiles being kidnapped. He insisted on taking Stiles to the hospital to get checked out. He's still there, but should be released today."

"He's really alive?"

Allison managed a weak chuckle. "Yeah. You didn't know before I told you?"

"No. I don't think it works like that." She drew a deep breath. "How?"

"We don't know. Are you up to trying to find out?"

Lydia stared at her for a few moments before she nodded. "Yeah. I should probably get dressed first." She rose robotically from the chair and walked back into the bedroom.

Allison sighed. She knew how upset Lydia had been by the loss of their friend, even though she would never admit it out loud. This was going to be interesting…

XXX

Stiles sat on the edge of his hospital bed, dressed in the clothes he'd worn last night and swing his feet idly as he waited for the doctor to return with his release papers. He'd been given another checkup that morning and been pronounced healthy, although the doctor had cautioned him to take it easy as they awaited the results of the toxicology tests. Stiles was pretty sure they weren't going to find anything, but he hadn't shared that particular fact with the doctor.

"What's taking so long?"

His father gave him a sympathetic smile. "They said they'd be back soon. Just be patient."

"I hate hospitals," he muttered.

"Yeah, me too."

The sheriff's cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to check the number. "It's the office. Do you mind?"

Stiles waved him off. "I'll be fine."

"OK." He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door. A few moments later he returned, an annoyed look on his face. "I need to go in. There's a situation that needs my attention. Melissa said she'd give you a ride back to her place." He noticed Stiles' expression. "I'll stay until they release you."

"Thanks."

"You sure you're OK?"

"Yeah. No more nightmares last night. Of course, they whole thing seem like a bad dream, but… I'm fine."

"OK. You know if that changes, you call me."

"That reminds me. Where's my phone?"

"Ah, yeah. I guess we'll need to get you a new one. The old one is still in the evidence lock-up."

"I can use Scott's phone. It can wait."

The sheriff reached out and gently ruffled his hair. "We'll get it taken care of as soon as we can, OK?"

"OK." His stomach rumbled and he winced. "But first, I need to get some real food. I don't suppose Melissa would be willing to stop for breakfast?"

"You can ask." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, extracting a couple of bills to hand to Stiles. "Just in case."

"Thanks."

Finally the doctor returned with the paperwork and after what seemed like hours but in reality was only a few minutes, everything was signed and Stiles was being guided to a wheelchair for his trip out of the hospital.

"I can walk, you know."

"Hospital policy," Melissa reminded him. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride." She pushed the chair towards the elevator with his father following along behind. When they reached the lobby, his father bent down and hugged him, holding him longer than was probably necessary before finally releasing him.

"I'll see you tonight, OK?"

"OK, Dad."

After the sheriff left he turned to Melissa. "Breakfast?"

She chuckled. "We can do that, come on." She pushed the chair to the curb and helped him out of it before leading him to her car that was parked a few yards away. Once they were both inside she headed for the closest fast food joint, hitting the drive-thru for a bag of breakfast burritos before making the trip to her house.

Scott was awake and waiting for them when they got there, clearly happy to see them both but it was obvious something was bothering him.

"What's wrong?"

"The hospital called a few minutes ago. They need you to come back to work. A special case. They wouldn't tell me anything else."

"I'll call them back." She handed him the bag of food. "Save me one, alright?"

"OK, Mom."

She headed upstairs, greeting Isaac as he passed her on the way down. Scott tossed him a foil-wrapped roll as he walked into the kitchen and then tossed a couple to Stiles as well. The three boys silently ate their breakfast as they waited for Melissa to return.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked when she stepped back into the kitchen, her face grim.

"I do have to go back. There's a...difficult patient arriving for surgery and I'm needed. I'm sorry."

"It's OK. You'll be home tonight?"

"Hope so." She glanced at the group, a worried expression on her face. "Do me a favor: stay here today. Don't go wandering off anywhere, especially not… to the hospital."

"I've seen enough of that place to last me awhile," Stiles declared. "But why?"

"Just trust me. Please."

"OK, Mom."

She smiled, grabbed her own breakfast, and left.

"What's going on?" Isaac asked.

"No idea. Guess we're hanging out here today."

"The girls will be over later. Allison called to check on Stiles and I told her what happened last night."

"She called _you_?"

"OK, guys, calm down," Stiles stepped between the two boys who were glaring daggers at each other. "What else did she say?"

"That was it."

"OK, so what else aren't you telling me?"

"We went to the cemetery last night. Saw your coffin. It was wrecked. They carted it off to the lab. There wasn't much to see after they left, but I did find something." Scott walked over to one of the drawers and pulled out an object wrapped in paper. He carefully unfolded in and set it on the counter. "It's silver. I can't touch it directly."

Stiles moved to the counter to study the object and froze, his eyes widening as he took in the details. The object was a pendant with a tree in the center surrounded by a thin silver circle. The tree's roots were twisted and extended down into the circle, while the branches extended into the circle at the top. The detail was incredible: each leaf was a miniature replica, and the bark of the tree almost looked as if it would cause damage if rubbed the wrong way. The circle was adorned with strange, stick-like symbols that looked like letters of some strange alphabet, spelling words that no one could read.

Scott took in Stiles' expression and a look of concern crossed his face.

"You recognize this?"

"Yeah," Stiles breathed. "Yeah, I do." He looked up and met his friend's worried gaze. "It belonged to my mother."

TBC…

A/N: This story started before _Galvanize_ and went AU from there, but some of the events from that episode are now coming into play ;)


End file.
